


One Way Ticket

by twistedrunes



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 03:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16905546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: Prompt: Hi can you do one with Michael Gray? Some not so funny stuff is happening this week so could you make it angst? Just Michael trying to cheer up the reader.





	One Way Ticket

“Train leaves in an hour, Michael. SS Munro from Liverpool. Sails tomorrow” Tommy says to Michael not meeting his eye.  

Michael walks out the door closing it behind him quietly. He slips the tickets into the inside pocket of his jacket for safekeeping and climbs back in the car with Mr Gold.

“Station Michael?” He asks

“Need to make a couple of stops on the way,” Michael says quietly. “Home first.”

“You can’t be late for the train. You know that Michael.” Mr Gold insists.

“Yeah. Just drive.” Michael replies, lighting a cigarette and looking out the window.  

In his bedroom, he quickly packs his clothes, putting the photo of his mum on top. Reaching under the mattress, he pulls out the photo of the woman who raised him, his other mum, and puts that in too. He removes the contents of his top bedside drawer and puts them in his pocket. Glancing briefly around the house he called home he walks out the front door. Locks it and pushes the key through the letterbox.

“Where now Michael?” Mr Gold asks.

“I’ll direct you,” Michael says pointing for Mr Gold to drive in the direction he was facing. “Left. Right. Left. Left. Stop.”

Michael climbs out of the car and knocks three times firmly.

 Wiping your hands on a tea towel, you head towards the door. Another knock sounds through the hall. “Coming.” You call before taking the final few steps to the door. You undo the chain and turn the key in the lock, remembering Michael’s strict instructions to never leave the door unlocked. He never discussed specifics, but you knew who his family was. The reality became clear when he had been shot on Christmas day. Your eyes widen when the man himself is standing on your doorstep, his brow covered in a thin veil of perspiration. “What are you doing here?” You ask instinctively looking up and down the street to see who might see him.

You and Michael had been dating for months now, but no one knew. Not his family, not his friend Isaiah, not his mum, not his other mum, and not his cousin Tommy. None of your friends, workmates, or family knew either. Michael had insisted because it wasn’t safe. You’d had a big fight on Christmas Eve, because you wanted to stop hiding, convinced Michael was ashamed of you.

Then on Christmas day, he had come to the hospital. As a patient. In-between desperate prayers you had realised you had underestimated the danger he was in. He had been trying to protect you. You had sobbed bitter tears that night that your wish to see him on Christmas day had been granted.

Fortunately, he survived, his recovery would be slow you knew, but he was alive. You knew his cousin had not been so lucky. 

Happily, he was put in your ward, and so you were able to see each other, more than you ever had before. You’d come in early or stay back late from a shift to spend time with him if none of his family was around. During that time your relationship had changed, moving on from being based mostly on sex. During his stay in the hospital you had spent time talking and getting to know each other, and for you at least you had felt the change in your relationship from, man I share my bed with, to the man I’d like to share my life with. But you knew he didn’t feel the same. Now after having mysteriously disappeared completely, here, he was on your doorstep. In full view of all of Small Heath.  

Michael doesn’t wait for an invitation and steps over the threshold, ushering you back into the hall. “Chloe, things have changed.” He says, his fingers automatically reaching for yours and entwining them. “I’m going to America.”

Your eyes widen briefly, before seeing he wasn’t playing or being silly. While in the hospital he’d talked about going to Australia with his mum. Your heart breaking a little each time he brought it up, his plans not including you. You burst into tears at his announcement. Michael quickly wraps you in his arms and pulls you to his chest. “Shush, don’t cry.” He says his own voice tight.  

“When?” You manage to squeak.

“Now. The train leaves in less than an hour.” He says, his hands smoothing your hair and finding your cheeks, lifting your face up from his chest. “I’m sorry, I only just found out myself.”

“Why?” you ask trying to read his face.

“Business.” He says simply. You don’t miss the twitch of his jaw or the flash in his eye.

“When will you be back?” You ask.

“I don’t know. Not ever, I think.” He says his eyes roaming your face as his thumbs caress your cheeks. He leans into you, kissing you gently. “I had to see you before I left. I couldn’t just leave you.” He says.

“Don’t go.” You sob, reaching up and taking his face in your hands.

“I have to,” Michael says.

“Please.” You beg.

Michael kisses your forehead. “I’m sorry I have to go. It’s not safe for me to stay.” He says beginning to move away from you.

Frantic you grab his waist. “I’ll come with you.” You blurt.

Michael looks at you, eyes wide. “If you come with me you might not come back.” He says quietly.

“But, you won’t come back.” Knowing in your heart that if he leaves without you now, you will lose him forever. Throwing caution to the wind, you continue “I nearly died when I saw you in the hospital. I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you.”

“Chloe, what’s going on?” Your father’s voice is surprisingly calm. You had forgotten entirely your parents were home.

To your surprise, Michael steps forward holding out his hand “It’s good to finally meet you, Mr Brown, Mrs Brown.” He says nodding at your mother as he shakes hands with your father.

Your father stands back motioning for you and Michael to join him in the sitting room.

Your mother taps your father’s elbow “See I told you she had someone special.” Your father nods.

You look at your mother “How?”

Moving to sit next to you on the sofa, she takes your hand in hers. “You’ve had the same look on your face I had on mine when I was dating your father, ever since New Year. I knew.”

“You’re one of the Shelby boys aren’t you?” Your father says his voice perfectly neutral.

“I’m their cousin, yes. I work as their accountant, in the legitimate side of the business. I’ve been seeing your daughter for some time now.” Michael says, he and your father remaining standing. “I’m sorry we haven’t met before, but I’m sure you’re aware of my family’s business, and I have wanted to keep your daughter safe, so I didn’t want anyone to know about us.” He pauses giving your father an opportunity to talk. Your father simply nods. Michael continues. “However on Christmas day my cousin, John, and I were shot outside his house. My cousin died. I found out today that my cousin Arthur is also dead. My cousin Thomas has asked me to go to New York and run some of our business there.”

You can hear a car horn honking outside. You all ignore it.

“And you’re leaving today?” Your father asks.

“In less than an hour,” Michael says his hand sliding into his pocket. “Mr Brown, this is not how I wanted to do this, but things being as they are, this is how it will need to be. Mr Brown, I’m in love with your daughter. She is the most beautiful, wonderful, kind and caring woman I have ever met. I want to spend the rest of my life becoming the kind of man she deserves and loving only her. I would like your permission to marry your daughter. I want her to come to New York with me.” Michael says. Your hands come to your mouth, tea towel discarded in your lap. You mother gasps softly.

Again the horn sounds, longer this time.

Your father looks past Michael to you. “Do you really love him?” he asks.

Michael turns to look at you, his eyes wide searching your face. You nod unable to speak. Michael smiles.

“Is he a worthy man?”

You nod again.

“Do you want to go to New York with him?”

You nod, crying now.

“Michael.” Your father says. Michael turns back to him. “I trust my daughter to know her own mind, and I trust her judge of character. You have my permission.” He says

Michael shakes your father’s hand. “Thank you, sir.” He moves over to the sofa, your mother moving away and standing by your father’s side, her hands clutching his. Michael sits next to you. “I wanted to wait until I could get down on one knee for you.” He says, the boyish smile you love so much flitting across his face. You smile tearily to let him know it’s okay and you know he can’t. “Chloe Maree Brown, would you do me the greatest honour and be my wife.” He asks releasing your hand for a moment and opening the box for you to see the beautiful ruby ring inside.

There is someone pounding on the front door now.

“Yes.” You sob.

Michael smiles broadly taking the ring and slipping it on your finger. Before holding your face in his hands and kissing you tenderly.

“Will you come to New York with me? Now?” He asks a hint of desperation in his voice.

You glance at your parents, they both nod. “Off you go love, you be happy.” Your father says kindly.

Michael stands and pulls his watch from his pocket “Damn.” He says. “You need to pack. Now. Don’t worry about clothes we’ll buy you new ones. Just a change for tomorrow and any keepsakes.” He insists already on his way to the door.

You sit stunned, your mother taking your hand and leading you up the stairs calling for your father to fetch you a case.

You hear Michael talking to someone outside the door.

In your room, your mother pulls you into a quick embrace before she begins collecting things for you to take. You stand shocked in the middle of the room, your father stepping around you and putting the case on the bed before helping your mother pack things into it. In less than ten minutes you’re standing back in the hall. Your father hands the case to Michael who gives it to another man. Both your parents embrace you simultaneously. The three of you saying your farewells.

Michael steps forwards “I’m sorry, but we need to go.” He says kindly. You pull away from your parents and move towards Michael, he’s waiting with your coat and hat, putting them on you.

“Wait!” Your mother cries, quickly returning to the sitting room only to reappear moments later with a photo frame in her hand. She pushes it into yours. “So you don’t forget us.” She says eyes full of tears. You glance at the family photo of the three of you and the reality of what you are doing hits you.

As if knowing precisely the maelstrom of thoughts flowing through your mind your father grabs you hand “You and Michael always have a home with us. You can always come home to us.”

Your hand slips out of your fathers as Michael guides you through the door and onto the street. You quickly grab your parents in an embrace again, before climbing in the back of the car.

You pull yourself onto your knees on the back seat looking through the small window as you drive away. Waving at your parents. As you round the corner and lose sight of them, you let out a sob and sink back into the seat.

Michael places his arm around you. Pulling you against him. He kisses the top of your head. You drive in silence until you reach the station. You follow Michael mutely to the ticket office and then onto the train. Michael finding you an empty compartment and putting your cases on the racks, before settling next to you. You squeeze Michael’s hand as the train pulls away from the platform.

You look out the window, relaxing back against Michael.

“Chloe?” Michael says softly.

“Mm?”

“Babe, look at me for a minute.” He says turning your shoulders towards him and taking your face in your hands.

“What’s wrong?” you ask nervously, watching his face intently.

“I just want to remember this forever,” Michael says, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Remember what?”

“Telling you I love you for the first time.” He says smiling.

You look away embarrassed, but Michael guides your face back up to look at him before he presses his lips to yours. Pulling away, eyes meeting yours again he says “Chloe, I love you.”


End file.
